


King of Knights

by Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra)



Series: Queens-&-Knights 'verse [3]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-01
Updated: 2004-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:21:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra%20of%20Yore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"I am all things. I could be her for you. Be here."</i> Illyria makes Spike an offer during a daytime drama.</p>
            </blockquote>





	King of Knights

“I do not understand.”

“Must be a familiar feelin’ to you by now,” Spike retorted, snatching a bottle of beer from the counter and popping off the bottle-cap.

“You react with hostility. This indicates that you feel pain,” Illyria observed, head cocked to one side. “Are you leaking blood again?”

He scowled at her over the top of his drink. “Not that kinda pain, luv,” he conceded that her deductions had been accurate.

“You feel pain because this Buffy has left once more,” she concluded.

“She didn’t _leave_ ,” he insisted. “Just happens to live back in the old country is all.”

“She is not present,” Illyria pointed out. “How else would you define ‘leave’?”

“She’s still my girl,” Spike retorted. “Said so herself.”

“Yet she is gone.”

“That’s life,” he shot back, sitting down on the sofa and flicking on the TV.

“You will now watch dots of light and color form illusions in motion. And discover whether Doctor Peterson will return to wed Dana. Does this alleviate your pain?”

“’m betting Kyle will find him in Vegas and sort him out right,” Spike commented. “And yeah. Nice to forget that she’s left.”

“She has left you, then. And you are in error. Kyle had been replaced by his evil twin, Trevor.” She sat down on the edge of the couch beside him, looking like she was perching on a throne for all the formality of her posture.

He shrugged. “’m keeping my hopes up.”

“Trevor wishes to annihilate Doctor Peterson’s practice,” she insisted.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Meant that the long-distance thing will work out,” he corrected. Frowned at the TV when Trevor pulled a knife behind Doctor Peterson’s back.

“Your body disobeys your resolution. Already you prepare for further copulation.” Illyria glanced casually at the bulge at the seam of his jeans before turning back to the television. Trevor raised the knife… “I believe the proper human expression is ‘I told you so’.”

He cast her a grudging sneer and adjusted his pants accordingly. It didn’t help anything to have some hot little icy goddess hanging around in the tightest outfit he’d ever seen. What’d she expect?

A second figure – identical to Trevor – leapt across the screen at the last minute, saving Doctor Peterson’s life. “Ha! Told you Kyle’d come back,” Spike announced in sudden triumph.

Illyria frowned. “His life was ended in the collision of metal vehicles.”

“They _always_ come back, Blue,” Spike informed her cheekily, reaching over for the bag of Doritos he’d left on top of the video game emulator.

“It is illogical.”

“Yeah, well, ‘s a bleedin’ _soap_ ,” he shrugged.

She turned from the blinking screen before her to her roommate of the past few weeks. “You appear to be unaffected. You lie.”

He sighed at that, slouched back in his seat. “Well, yeah. Who wouldn’t want their girl with ‘em twenty-four seven? But she’s got her thing, and I’ve got mine. So,” he concluded, raising his beer in a mock toast, “I cope. Don’t think about things, and what ‘ve got’s not so bad, right?”

She tilted her head to one side, sending a stream of blue-and-brown hair cascading over one shoulder. “At this juncture, I made Wesley an offer,” she informed him.

“That, you did,” he agreed. “Got you booted to my humble abode, din’t it?”

“You would react the same?”

“’m not Wesley,” he countered vehemently.

“I am…curious about these emotions that drive two knights to despair,” she confessed. “I wish to experience them, yet my attempts are in vain.”

Spike gulped at that and looked at her – really looked at her – for a good long while. For the first time ever, her own imperious gaze was turned away by one more powerful.

She turned back to the television rather than admit defeat. “Trevor is incarcerated. Kyle has won. Doctor Peterson will return. You were correct.”

“You could really pull that stunt you tried on the Watcher and look like Buffy?” he asked curiously.

“That transformation is more complex than the Burkle one, but still well within my powers,” she answered, surprised by his interest. Wesley had fled at the glimpse of what she could become. “All mortal forms are simple.”

“Let’s see it then.”

Her head jolted at a sharp angle to look at him, evident shock in her eyes. She must have concluded he was serious, though, because she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

He watched her body alter subtly into a shorter, more petite form, watched her hair seem to retract, suddenly blazing with flashes of gold, watched the features on her face shift suddenly, the irises of her eyes contract then expand, hazel now. He gulped. It _was_ Buffy, but not.

“Neat trick,” he commented a bit shakily, “but you’re not her.”

“No.” Illyria hadn’t bothered to change her voice. His motives still confused her, but she understood enough to know that this was just a demonstration, not the form in which she would finally satisfy this body’s growing desires.

Spike appreciated the effort, nodded, watched her shift back to her regular form with what appeared to be relief on her face. He figured it’d be tough, going around and pretending to be someone else. “Any woman in the world…” he commented thoughtfully.

“I am all things,” she agreed. “I…” She hesitated, not wanting to make the same error twice. “I could be her for you. Be here.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” He just shook his head, turning back to the TV. “Tried that once, actually, and it never turns out right. ‘Specially when the hell goddess has stupid minions…” He grumbled the last under his breath.

Illyria quickly inferred he wasn’t talking about her, so she let the reference pass. “You choose as my other knight did. Why do you both refuse what you desire?”

“Because,” he answered, “ _you’re_ not what we desire.”

“I am not desirable?”

“You’re bloody gorgeous, pet.”

“You are irrational, then. Both of you,” she concluded.

He laughed at that. “Damn straight,” he agreed, taking another swig of his beer.

“Yet, I still desire you,” she commented thoughtfully, half to herself. “Does that not make me irrational as well?”

“What was it Red said…?” He thought for a minute. “Oh yeah: ‘Love makes you do the wacky.’”

“Is this love?” she asked curiously.

He shrugged. “Who even knows anymore?” he asked rhetorically. “But if you want a word of advice: I don’t need Buffy-light. Illyria, on the other hand…” He reached over to brush one blue lock back from her face. “Illyria’s… _interesting_.”

“Indeed?” Her lips turned upward at the edges in unexpected pleasure. “I knew all along that you were my true knight.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Spike returned to his affected nonchalance almost immediately. “Now, be a luv and shut your trap so I can hear whether Darcy takes Mark back…”

Illyria turned to the affected drama once more, questions satisfied for the moment. _A true knight, indeed._


End file.
